


my heart is yours

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: It was a witcher thing, apparently. They didn’t get married or betrothed, but they bonded. Geralt had taken him back to Kaer Morhen to perform the ceremony, only after he had asked Jaskier if he’d be interested, even given all the details, and he had laughed in disbelief and said,“Yes!”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 511





	my heart is yours

**Author's Note:**

> obviously i am taking a lot of creative liberty with this but idc idc 
> 
> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

It was a witcher thing, apparently. They didn’t get married or betrothed, but they _bonded_. Geralt had taken him back to Kaer Morhen to perform the ceremony, only after he had asked Jaskier if he’d be interested, even given all the details, and he had laughed in disbelief and said, _“Yes!”_

They’d been together for years, though they’d never exactly discussed their relationship in so many words. They didn’t need to; they knew what they meant to each other and that was all they cared about. If others didn’t understand, that was on them.

But still Jaskier was excited for this - for _confirmation_ of their relationship.

He met all the other witchers, and even the man who Geralt viewed as a father, who had skeptically looked Jaskier up and down before smiling and saying, “I’m glad he’s found himself a worthy travel companion.”

Jaskier had been absolutely _unbearable_ after that, giddy and clinging to Geralt’s arm as he led him through Kaer Morhen and showed him around. It wasn’t a church or even a nice mansion, it was rundown and falling apart, but Jaskier didn’t mind; he only cared that Geralt was with him.

That night, they laid together in one of the dusty rooms. Jaskier was unable to sleep. Geralt had told him all about the ceremony, and he was a bit scared ( _of course_ witchers involved pain in everything they did, even the good stuff) but brimming with excitement. Tomorrow they would be bonded, their fates forever tied together, because apparently bonding was a big deal to witchers.

They rarely did it, and that just made Jaskier feel even giddier.

“You love me,” he said, snuggling closer.

Geralt snorted, arm wrapped around him, “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Now sleep; we don’t want you fainting during the ceremony.”

Jaskier pouted, “Do we have to do the whole _masochism_ bit?”

“No,” he responded instantly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Jaskier peered at him through the dark, only able to see the glint of his yellow eyes by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He realized he wanted to do this properly, every bit of it.

“You’ll catch me if I faint, right?” he asked, light and teasing.

Geralt laughed into his hair, “I will catch if you faint,” he confirmed, and Jaskier smiled, finally closing his eyes.

*

Jaskier wished he had better clothes, but he settled for what he had and was led to the courtyard by one of the witchers, who looked less than thrilled to be part of this. He vaguely remembered being introduced; his name was Lambert or something.

His good mood wasn’t going to be damped by anything, though, especially when he saw Geralt enter from a different path, looking as gorgeous as ever. He wasn’t wearing his armor, for once, clad in plain clothes as he walked over and stopped in front of Jaskier.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest. “Are you scared?” Geralt asked, taking his hands.

He almost laughed, “Not at all.” Surprisingly, he meant it, even as he saw the irons in the fire just a few feet away, heating up for the next part of the ceremony.

“Well,” Geralt said, arching an eyebrow, “I’m assuming you have lots you want to say.”

Jaskier squeezed his hands. He had debated writing his feelings down, making sure he didn’t miss a word of what he felt, but ultimately he had decided to just speak from the heart. He ignored the other witchers for the moment and focused entirely on the man in front of him. The beautiful, brave, ridiculous man he had given his heart to.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he started, slowly. “I want to be with you, Geralt, in life and death.” Geralt looked almost sheepish, and he grinned, swaying forward to kiss him on the cheek, “I’ve wanted you since the moment we met, but loving you - that happened much later, and my only regret is not confessing sooner, so could have more time together.” He pulled back. “Thank you for bringing me here, and showing me your family, and doing this.”

Geralt leaned down and kissed him. One of the witchers - Lambert again, probably - gagged, and Geralt flipped him off without even looking. “Julian,” he said, and Jaskier smiled, biting the inside of his cheek. He had hated his name for a long time but hearing it from Geralt’s mouth he couldn’t for the life of him remember why. “I never thought I’d do this with anyone. It’s - ”

Jaskier squeezed his hands, encouraging him.

He cleared his throat and continued, “For us,” he glanced around at the others before focusing on Jaskier again, “This is a big deal. I’ve never even _seen_ a ceremony myself,” he admitted, “and I most certainly never thought I’d be standing here today, or any day, but.” Jaskier smiled, quiet and patient, as Geralt seemed to think about his next words. “I’m happy I’m here,” he said finally.

Jaskier smiled wider and kissed him again, even deeper. When they separated, Geralt reached up and cupped the side of Jaskier’s face, brushing his thumb across his cheek. “Are you ready?” he asked, rough with emotion.

“Ready,” he confirmed, and then they turned toward the fire together, holding hands.

Vesemir walked forward and nodded, taking one of the branding irons out of the fire. Jaskier pointedly did not look at it. “Geralt,” he said, and he sounded impossibly fond. Jaskier was glad, suddenly, to know Geralt hadn’t always been alone. “Julian. Arms, please.”

Geralt extended his arm, palm up, and Jaskier mirrored him, his heart beating loud and fast.

He smartly stepped up to Geralt first, pressing the end of the iron to the skin of his arm. He hissed at the pain, squeezing Jaskier’s hand. Finished, Vesemir moved over and paused in front of Jaskier. He arched an eyebrow, “Are you sure you want this?”

Jaskier held his head high, squaring his shoulders. “I want this,” he said, meaning it.

Nodding, Vesemir fetched the other iron from the fire and pressed it to Jaskier’s arm. The pain was surprisingly not as bad as he had thought; it was sharp, but fast. He squeezed Geralt’s hand and watched as Vesemir stepped back, smiling.

“It is official,” he said, and some of the witchers clapped, some whooped, and others did nothing.

Geralt pressed their arms together, finishing the symbol. It was a symbol for loyalty, special to witchers. Probably would mean nothing to anyone else, but for them it was everything. It was the symbol of their love. Jaskier sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Geralt kissed his temple, “Wow,” he agreed.


End file.
